


Witch Image

by orchidwitch



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Apocalypse, Biblical References, Black Plague Copia, Character Death, Deception, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Four Horsemen, Satanism, Violence, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-11-28 10:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18207206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidwitch/pseuds/orchidwitch
Summary: Sister Imperator brings in a young Sister of Sin to train as her successor, shortly after convincing Papa Nihil to train Cardinal Copia as his successor. Though by all appearances she seems to be the prime candidate to lead the Sisters of Sin, secrets soon begin to unravel, revealing that Isla isn't at all who she says she is. Even Copia, who is undeniably infatuated with Sister Imperator's new protege, doesn't know if he can trust her.However, the longer Isla stays at the abbey, the more she and Copia realize that they have to trust each other. But Isla still has to decide where her loyalty lies—to the Church, to Copia, to her family, or to herself.And her choice could quite literally bring on the end of the world.





	1. sweet, rotting death

**Author's Note:**

> hi, so, um, i'm new to AO3 and i haven't written fanfics in YEARS but i decided to give this a go. not gonna make any promises and not sure about this, but it was pretty fun to write! let me know what you think and leave comments or whatever it is you do here, i'd really appreciate it.
> 
> thanks for giving my stupid ghost fic a click!

The clicking of her heels on the black and white marble floor echoed throughout the long corridor. It was her first time at the abbey, but she walked the halls with the confidence and familiarity of someone who had lived here their entire life. She looked the part too, as she was dressed entirely in black—a knee-length black dress with a peplum skirt, worn beneath an open black trench coat, with matching high heels and leather bag dangling from her arm. Large round sunglasses were perched atop her head, though there was no need for them at night.  
She came to the end of the corridor, before an enormous set of intricately carved mahogany doors. She drew a deep breath to calm herself and let it out slowly, and then reached out a black leather gloved hand to give the door three sharp knocks. A voice called for her to come in, so she did, making sure to close the doors behind her. 

She stepped foot into the office, a round room lined with ebony bookshelves that contained a myriad of books from all points of history. A gold chandelier dangled from the center of the ceiling, bathing the cave-like room in candlelight, and rich Persian rugs covered the cool marble floors. On the back wall was a rounded stained glass window depicting sinners dancing among the flames of Hell before Satan’s throne. There was a desk at the center of the room, behind which sat an old man who was using an oxygen machine to breathe. He didn’t know the young woman who had just sauntered into his office, which his expression blatantly corroborated. However, she knew who he was: Papa Nihil. 

“Isla, darling, what a pleasure it is to see you!” exclaimed the older woman who stepped forward. She wore an enormous grin on her face, and eagerly squeezed the young woman’s shoulders as she looked over her face excitedly. “I trust everything with your flights went well?” 

“It’s wonderful to see you too, Sister Imperator,” Isla replied sunnily. “And yes, my flights were great, thanks to you getting me into first class.” 

“Of course, anything for you, my dear,” Sister Imperator said. 

She reached up to pat the young woman’s cheek. Papa Nihil could barely believe his eyes. He’d never seen Sister Imperator act so lovingly towards someone, let alone someone that he didn’t know or have a clue about. He momentarily questioned his sanity—should he know this girl? Was he really as old and senile as some members of the congregation whispered that he was?

“Um, sorry to interrupt,” Nihil interjected. “But would you care to introduce me to the young woman who let herself into my office, Sister?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Papa,” Sister Imperator apologized. She turned to face him a bit more as she said, “This is Isla Sinclair. She was an orphan, taken in as a ward of the Sisters of Sin at the abbey in New York and raised in the church. However, I think she’s now ready to train as my successor, having just completed her college education.” 

Nihil rolled his eyes. College. What a waste of time and money. It made him a bit suspicious as well. What did the girl need to learn at college that she couldn’t learn through the Church? 

That, and why was Sister suddenly worried about having a successor? 

“Are you planning on dying soon, Sister?” he asked. 

Sister Imperator gave him a slightly amused smirk. 

“By our Unholy Father, I hope not,” she said, chuckling slightly. “But we’re both getting older, Papa, and we both need to start thinking about who will be taking our places once we’re gone.” 

Nihil raised a gray brow. First Sister convinced him to get rid of his sons in favor of training the strange Cardinal Copia to lead the church, and now she was bringing in some random American girl to train to lead the Sisters of Sin without telling him? 

“Can I speak to you alone?” he asked. 

Sister Imperator’s smile strained, though she said, “Of course you may. Isla, dear, would you mind?” 

“Not at all,” the young woman said politely. She smiled to Papa and gave him a bow. “It was a pleasure to meet you, your Unholiness.” 

With that, the young woman ducked out of the room, leaving Imperator and Nihil alone once again. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this girl?” Nihil pressed. 

Sister Imperator shrugged slightly, settling in the leather armchair opposite Nihil’s desk. 

“It merely slipped my mind,” she answered casually. “With everything going on with your sons and the cardinal lately, I forgot when Isla was set to arrive.” 

“Isla,” Nihil repeated, exhaling a snort through his nose, jostling his oxygen tubes. “So she still hasn’t taken her vows, since you’re using her Christian name, and yet you plan to make her your successor?” 

Once again, Imperator shrugged. 

“Vows are easy,” Sister Imperator stated. “Anyone can make vows to pledge their eternal souls to our Master. But not everyone has what it takes to be a leader in the church, and she has that. That’s why I’ve chosen her to take my place eventually.” 

“How do you know that, though?” Papa asked. “How well do you know the girl?” 

“Well enough,” Sister said. “You know I make frequent visits to the Sisters in the states...I’ve known Isla since she was a girl, when the Sisters first found her stealing religious relics from a Catholic church to sell for money to feed herself.”

Sister paused to chuckle at the memory, and then went on to say, “She was always meant for Satan. I have no doubt that she will make a fantastic Mother Superior in time.” 

Papa groaned. He knew he wasn’t going to win with Sister. He never did. Still, he didn’t like that she had brought this girl here without telling him. He didn’t see why she needed to train her to be her successor now. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something funny about the girl. Something off. 

“Don’t be so upset about it, Papa,” Sister Imperator said comfortingly. She rose to her feet and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Times are changing in the church, but it’s nothing to fret over. These changes are for the better of the church.” 

Papa Nihil sighed. It was true, he knew the church needed reform. His sons were gone and he was growing too old to run the church on his own, and Sister Imperator wasn’t that far behind him in age. The church needed strong leaders to be there when they passed. He just didn’t think those leaders should be the twinkle-toed Copia and the surprise American girl. 

“Very well,” Papa sighed. It was his way of admitting defeat. “But no more secrets from me, alright, Sister?” 

Sister Imperator’s smile twisted. 

“No more secrets from you, Papa.” 

x X x

Isla Sinclair took a seat in the entry foyer of the abbey as she waited for Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil to finish their private conversation. She sighed, looking around the ornate building she found herself it. It was even bigger and grander than the abbey in New York, something she didn’t think was possible. 

Though Isla was particularly observant, she was terribly jetlagged, something that clouded her usual observantness. She was so tired she allowed herself to close her eyes and sink back into the comfortable crimson velvet sofa and close her eyes, even if it was just for a moment of rest. With her eyes closed, she failed to see the two ghouls dangling over the balcony to watch her. 

“Another transfer, huh?” one ghoul said to the other. “First Copia and now this one?” 

“Weird,” the second ghoul commented. He sniffed and scrunched his nose up under his mask as he found her scent. “She even smells weird like Copia.” 

The first ghoul took a deeper smell to see what he thought. 

“Weird, sure, but not as bad as Copia,” he said. “Copia smells like he hasn’t left the library for the past century. She smells like…” 

His voice trailed off, as he tried to find the right words to describe her scent. He’d smelled too many humans to truly quantify and none ever had the same smell, but this girl’s scent was hard to place his claw on. There was something sweet about it, almost nastily sweet, and perhaps something earthy in there too, like flowers after the rain. 

“Death?” the second ghoul supplied. 

“Death,” the first ghoul nodded. Exactly. “But the sweet kind. Sweet, rotting death.”


	2. the lech

“And this will be the room you’ll share with Sister Tentiga,” Sister Imperator said. She gave Isla a sympathetic glance and said, “We’re still working on fixing a suite of your own, which should be done in no time, but until then you’ll have to share. However, I think you’ll like Sister Tentiga—I certainly do.” 

“Thank you,” Isla said. 

Sister Imperator unlocked the door, allowing Isla to step inside first. Like the rest of the abbey, the room was elaborate, adorned in mahogany and gold, with marble floors, and more scenes of Hell depicted in the stained glass windows. Thankfully, the room was big enough for Isla to feel like she’d have some privacy, despite having to share. She figured the bed on the left would be hers, seeing as the one on the right was unmade and surrounded by personal mementos that must belong to Sister Tentiga.

With her back turned to Sister Imperator, Isla sighed and rolled her eyes. She’d never shared a room in her life and she wasn’t happy about having to start now. Sure, the room was big enough for her not to be on top of her new roommate, but she still didn’t want that roommate in the first place. She’d have to really kiss Sister Imperator’s ass to get that private room of hers ASAP. 

“Here are your keys,” Sister Imperator said. She handed a keyring to Isla and explained, “This is to your room here, this will allow you in any door in the Abbey, and this one is to my office. You’re allowed in there whenever you please, even if I’m not there.” 

“Thank you,” Isla repeated. Once again, she put on the smile that she had worked so hard to perfect, the smile that she knew almost always got her what she wanted. “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Sister.” 

“I know you do,” Sister Imperator replied. She reached up to pat Isla’s cheek, grinning softly at her as if she was the granddaughter she never had. “And I know you’re the perfect candidate for the job.” 

“I hope to prove you right,” Isla said. 

“You will,” Imperator nodded. “In one week, during the full moon, you’ll be able to take your vows and become an official Sister of Sin and we’ll finally be able to get to work.” 

Isla’s smile grew. “Perfect.” 

x X x

_ Six Years Ago _

Isla Sinclair was dying. She was sixteen years old, a ballet prodigy, a ward of the Sisters of Sin. She was a charming, intelligent young woman who had her whole life ahead of her, or she at least should have had a whole life ahead of her. But she had one of the most quickly advancing cases of lymphoma that the oncologist hired by the church had ever seen. And he was one of the top oncologists in the country. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” the doctor confessed. “She came to me two months ago with stage one, and now she’s stage four and it’s spread to her liver. I have no clue how it happened this fast...if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that Lucifer himself has it out for the poor girl…” 

He’d said it to Sister Lamia, the head of the New York abbey, and Sister Imperator, the Mother Superior of all of the Sisters of Sin, who’d come all the way from Europe to see Isla when she heard the news. The adults had thought she was sleeping when they had the conversation, but unfortunately, Isla was still awake, too weak to open her eyes. 

But now the adults were gone, leaving Isla alone in her makeshift hotel room she’d been confined to for two months. She’d hardly gotten out of bed. She was too weak to eat anything, let alone do anything she enjoyed like visiting the library or attending her ballet classes. She was weak and sick and disgusting and pathetic, and she couldn’t face another day of suffering like this. 

But she wasn’t going to let the cancer get the best of her. If she was going to die, she was going to die on her own terms. 

With what little strength she had, she lifted herself into a sitting position. She pulled off her oxygen mask and ripped out all of the various IV’s the doctor had stuck in her and detached herself from the heart monitor and breathing monitor. She forced herself to stand, the first time in weeks, and grimaced with pain, pausing to wait for the lightheadedness to pass. 

Painful step by painful step, she hobbled over to the window, feeling and looking like a shadow of her former self. In the time since coming down with her illness, she’d wasted away. She was previous tall and slim but well muscled from all of her intense years of dancing, and now she was nothing more than a clunky, wiry bag of bones. It took all of her strength to force the window open. 

She was on the nineteenth floor. If she jumped, she’d splatter herself all over the New York City sidewalk. She’d be dead in an instant, on her own terms. Just how she wanted. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This wasn’t how things were meant to be. She wasn’t supposed to die now, not after all the hard work she’d done infiltrating the Church of Sin. Everything she’d done would be in vain. She’d be letting down her family. She hoped they’d understand why she had to die; that they’d take mercy on her and understand that she wouldn’t have survived to complete the mission anyways. 

She let the breath out through her nose and opened her eyes slowly. For someone about to commit suicide, she was strangely serene. 

And in an instant, Isla was out the window.

Only she didn’t land on the ground, nor did she die. She wasn’t quite sure where she was. She couldn’t feel a thing, but at the same time, she was acutely aware that she wasn’t dead. Yet she wasn’t alive either. 

She opened her eyes, confused. She found that she wasn’t anywhere. She was surrounded by vast nothingness—no air, no light, no sound, no feel, just pure  _ nothing _ . 

“Finally,” came a deep, soothing voice. “It’s about time that I have the pleasure of meeting Miss Isla Sinclair.” 

x X x

Sister Tentiga was bursting at the seams with excitement as she rushed up to her quarters to meet her new roommate. She’d been through a few roommates during her few years at the abbey—all of her previous roommates had either switched or gotten private suites because Tentiga was “too much” to deal with—so having a new roommate who was fresh to the abbey was a new start for her. She hoped the two would be fast friends. Sister Imperator said she was only a year younger. Tentiga hoped they’d have a lot in common and maybe that she’d even have a new partner in crime. 

Trying to contain herself, Sister Tentiga knocked at her door gingerly, not wanting to spook the young woman who she hoped would soon become her best friend. 

Once she was called to come in, she burst through the door, unable to contain much of her enthusiasm anymore. Immediately, she noticed the shock on the new sister’s face. Not disdain, but just surprise. She was probably a bit jolted by Sister Tentiga’s amount of energy, especially for the time of night, and especially after all the travelling she’d just done. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to come on so strong, but I can’t help myself!” Sister Tentiga confessed gleefully. “I’m so excited to have a new roommate that I’m acting like a little kid—Sister Imperator always scolds me for doing that—anyways, I’m Sister Tentiga, but you’re more than welcome to call me by my birth name, Liesel.” 

The two shook hands. 

“Let me take a guess and say you’re German?” Isla asked, putting on her signature smile. 

Liesel’s eyes lit up and she laughed. “My accent is that bad?” 

Isla shrugged lightheartedly. “I wasn’t going to say bad, just thick. Your English is fine, but I can definitely hear that you’re German...where from?” 

“Leipzig,” Liesel said. “In the eastern part of the country, south of Berlin—”

“No, I know, Leipzig,” Isla said. 

Liesel was surprised to hear her German was perfectly accented. 

“ _ Sprichst du Deutsch? _ ” she inquired. “Do you speak German?”

“ _ Ein bisschen, _ ” Isla grinned meekly. “A little.  _ Mein vater war aus Trier _ . My father was from Trier.” 

Well, the man Isla was referring to wasn’t her _ biological _ father, nor was he her father in any legal sense of the word. But he was the one man who had ever been good to her, the man who had raised her even when her mother refused to do so, and therefore in her book he was her father. 

And it wasn’t like she had to tell Liesel any of that. In fact, if she did, it would ruin everything. 

“ _ Das ist toll! _ ” Liesel exclaimed. “This is great!  _ Ein neuer mitbewohner, der meine sprache spricht? Ich hätte nie gedacht, dass ich so viel glück habe!  _ A new roommate who speaks my language? I never thought I’d get so lucky!” 

Isla chuckled. Her chuckling was briefly cut off by a lung-squishing hug from Liesel, who was a lot stronger than she appeared to be for her height. She pulled back and looked up at Isla, a kind of warmth in her eyes that made Isla feel just a little bit bad for what she knew was to come. 

“ _ Ich denke, wir werden schnelle freunde sein. _ I think we’re going to be fast friends.” 

Isla didn’t want to say anything to that. She merely smiled and kept her mouth shut. 

For the first time in a long time, she felt bad knowing her purpose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow hey i'm still posting this! thanks to everyone who read and gave kudos and thank you sheisawitch for your sweet comment, i really appreciated it!
> 
> as far as updates go, i don't think i'm going to have much of a schedule. i work and go to school so i'll be writing this in the free time that i do have, so i think i'm gonna update whenever i have something new to post instead of trying to make myself stick to a schedule. not that anyone is super worried about me updating lmao, but i just thought i'd put that here.
> 
> btw this chapter is titled "the lech" because sister tentiga's name is taken from the latin "tentigo" which loosely translates to "lecherous." hopefully what little latin i know from my catholic school days will come in handy with this fic lmao
> 
> thank you again for even just taking the time to read this it really does mean a lot to me...and look forward to finally seeing copia in the next chapter!


	3. a twinkle-toed twit

Liesel couldn’t stop herself from waking up her new roommate the next morning. She knew that she should let the girl sleep. She’d had a long journey from the states and arrived late last night and needed to sleep. And she looked so peaceful all curled up in the black satin sheets. 

But Liesel couldn’t stop herself. She wanted Isla to come join everyone for breakfast, and then to show her around and start becoming best friends with her already. 

“ _ Guten morgen! _ ” Liesel greeted. 

She gently shook Isla’s shoulders, coaxing her back into consciousness. The raven-haired American grumbled and attempted to pull the sheets up over her face, but Liesel held the back so she couldn’t. Isla realized she had no choice but to wake up, and after a slight yawn and groan, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and started to sit up. 

“What time is it?” Isla inquired groggily. 

“A little after ten in the morning,” Liesel answered. “Breakfast starts at ten-thirty, and I was hoping you’d come join us for it in the dining hall.” 

Isla yawned again. She stretched her arms over her head and looked to Liesel with a smile. 

“I’d love to,” she said sunnily. “Just let me take a quick shower and get dressed, alright?” 

“Sure thing,” Liesel nodded excitedly. 

She hopped off Isla’s bed with a little extra pep in her step, having completed her first goal of the day: get Isla to agree to go to breakfast with her. 

“Did you bring clothes with you?” Liesel asked, seeing that Isla’s closet was still empty. “If not, I’m sure I can go find you something for today…”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I brought clothes, they’re just in my suitcase,” Isla said. 

She heaved the enormous piece of luggage onto her bed, revealing that it was jam-packed in the most pristine way possible. She pulled out her toiletry bag and set aside a fresh outfit for they day. 

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you out here,” Liesel said. 

“Okay,” Isla agreed. 

She was doing her best to remain even-keeled and not outwardly show how put off she was with Liesel’s overwhelming enthusiasm and desire to be kind. Sure the Satanists had treated her well throughout her life, but that was largely because of her own charm and abilities. She hadn’t worked any of her magic on Liesel yet, and she was still unbelievably kind. Yes, she came on strong, but Isla couldn’t deny that it was overly apparent that Liesel was motivated by nothing more than kindness and a desire to build a friendship. 

Liesel was so kind and warm that it was almost unbearable. Isla wasn’t used to kindness without reason. Even her surrogate father and Aoife, the only people that Isla ever truly loved, had their ulterior motives for being kind to Isla. She didn’t know how to handle someone like Liesel who was kind purely because it was part of who she was as a person. She’d never encountered anyone like it before. And she had no clue how someone so effervescent and sweet ended up as a Sister of Sin. 

Isla tried to shake the questions out of her mind as she stepped into the shower. It would benefit her to forge a friendship with Liesel. To truly infiltrate the Church she had to gain the people’s trust. She had Sister Imperator’s trust already, which was good, but that wasn’t enough on its own. She had to have everyone’s trust. Starting with gaining Liesel’s trust wasn’t a bad plan. 

After a breezy shower, Isla brushed her teeth and combed and dried her hair, hastily confining it to a braid over her shoulder. She shimmied into fresh underwear and a clean black dress. She owned too many black dresses. The Satanists had influenced her in that way. Lastly, she put on a light dose of makeup, and decided that was as good as she was going to get, and went back into the main bedroom to meet Liesel, who was still all-too-eager to have Isla along with her. 

Liesel giddily showed Isla downstairs to the dining hall in the abbey, happily chatting away the whole time. Isla quickly learned that she didn’t need to say much of anything at all. Liesel was happy if she just gave an occasional smile and nod and paid attention to her. It made Isla wonder if anyone had shown Liesel any kind of true attention in her life. 

Probably not. 

“And here we are, the dining hall!” Liesel announced, throwing her arms up in a grand gesture once the two women arrived in the gigantic room. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Isla was unsurprised by the grandeur of the place—grandeur was an integral part of being a Satanist, she’d learned that quickly—but she was still impressed by it all. The room had vaulted, cathedral ceilings and was carved out of stone, the same black and white marble tile flooring that shimmered with flecks of gold. Sunlight poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, giving the room a strangely homey feeling, despite the size and luxuriousness. A mahogany table spanned the entirety of the length of the room, lined with crimson velvet upholstered dining chairs and covered with every kind of breakfast food the Isla could imagine. 

Maybe a hundred or so Brothers and Sisters of Sin were all going about their morning routines, helping themselves to the food, sitting and laughing and chatting, or finishing up and leaving until lunch. The ghouls were running dirty dishes out to the kitchen and replenishing empty platters of food via their magical powers, all from behind those masks of theirs. Isla found the masks kind of strange, perhaps because they didn’t have the luxury of having ghouls around at the abbey in New York. Still though, she’d dealt with plenty of demons before, and none of them wore any sort of masks. 

“Good morning, Miss Sinclair,” said one of the ghouls. He ducked into a neat bow before standing up straight once again. “Sister Imperator has requested that you join her and Papa Nihil for breakfast.” 

“Does she really have to?” Liesel questioned before Isla could even open her mouth. 

The ghoul nodded. “Yes.” 

“Well, have fun,” Liesel sighed. It was clear that she was quite disappointed. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Thanks,” Isla replied. 

Liesel gave her a half-hearted smile before making her way to join a group of Sisters pouring themselves coffee. Isla looked to the ghoul, who was impressively tall, and he gestured for her to follow him, so she did. 

“So, you were raised at an abbey in America, hm?” the ghoul asked, attempting to make small talk while leading her through the corridors. 

“Yes, I was,” Isla confirmed. “And we didn’t have ghouls there.” 

“Well, then, you’ve been missing out,” the ghoul retorted. 

Isla could practically picture his smirk beneath his mask, making her smile a little. 

Changing the subject, the ghoul remarked, “I’ve heard Sister Imperator has plans to make you her successor.” 

“Supposedly,” she shrugged casually. 

“Supposedly?” repeated the amused ghoul. “I think she’s serious about it...she wouldn’t have brought you all the way here for nothing. You must be quite special for Imperator to take such a liking to you and trust you with so much before you’ve even taken your bows.” 

The two came to a stop before a set of doors and Isla could feel the ghoul’s gaze harden on her.  _ Did he know something? Something he shouldn’t know?  _

She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. A human wouldn’t have noticed it. But a ghoul’s eyes were much more perceptive than a human’s, and therefore, the ghoul noticed, and took note of it. 

“I’m nothing special,” Isla said. She turned on her megawatt grin, and charmingly added, “But I hope to be. Someday.” 

For the briefest of moments, the ghoul bought what Isla was selling him. He shook his head as he opened the door, unsure of what had just come over him, and kind of impressed by her ability to make him believe her bullshit, even if it was just for a moment.

“Ah, good morning, Isla,” Sister Imperator greeted, mimosa in hand. She gave the girl a welcoming shoulder squeeze and then looked to the ghoul and said, “Thank you, Aether. That will be all.” 

The ghoul ducked into a bow again, his eyes lingering on Isla as he exited the room. 

“Please, have a seat,” Imperator said. 

She pulled a chair out for Isla, one that was between her seat and Papa Nihil’s seat at the round table. The old man paid Isla little to no attention as he continued to cut his whipped cream laden pancakes with shaky hands, his oxygen cannula still affixed to his nostrils. 

“Good morning, Papa,” Isla said, giving the elderly man her purposely dazzling smile. Lying through her perfect teeth, she said, “You look well today.” 

Papa looked taken aback by the compliment. He stared at her for a good few seconds, and his face finally relaxed into a smile. 

“Thank you, Anna,” he said, misremembering her name. “You’re looking fine yourself as well.” 

And he meant what he said, the old pervert. 

“It’s Isla, Papa,” Imperator chided. She settled back into her own seat across from him and put her mimosa glass down. “Not Anna.” 

“Sorry,” Papa said, a small sheepish grin on his painted face. “I probably won’t ever learn your name. New information doesn’t sink in well to this old noggin.” 

He tapped his temple with his knuckles to indicate his noggin, making Isla chuckle on cue. Papa tucked back into his breakfast. He was satisfied, thinking he’d truly been able to make the young woman laugh. 

“Isn’t Copia supposed to be joining us?” he asked as his head popped up to face Imperator. 

“He is,” Sister confirmed. Isla could’ve sworn she caught a hint of a sigh in her tone, but she wasn’t sure. “I told him yesterday, but you know him…” 

“Probably lost in the library or practicing his dance moves,” Papa commented gruffly. “That twinkle-toed twit—”

“My sincerest apologies,” came a breathless male voice from the door behind Isla. He had an accent, too. Italian, perhaps. “I would’ve been on time had I not—”

“Relax, Cardinal, you’re here now,” Imperator said. “Come, have a seat and get something to eat.”

“Yes, yes, of course, thank you,” the man twittered anxiously. 

Isla watched him as he took the empty seat across from her, gingerly sipping the cup of tea she’d poured herself. So  _ this _ was Cardinal Copia. She wasn’t going to lie, he wasn’t exactly what she’d been expecting. All of the past Papas had that special something about them, that charismatic x-factor, something that Isla wasn’t at all getting from the Cardinal who sat before her, seeming not to notice her at all. 

He simply seemed like a mildly anxious man, though she had a hard time placing his age. He could be anywhere from early thirties to late forties, maybe, and that was a large range. He kept a trim moustache with sharp sideburns, his medium dark hair slicked back beneath his biretta. Dark circles of makeup accentuated his heterochromatic eyes, like he’d done the first step of the Papa skull makeup and stopped there. He wore a simple black cassock and Isla found it a bit odd that he kept his gloves on while he began to eat. 

Sister Imperator cleared her throat, making both Isla and Copia jump a bit. Papa was too hard of hearing to have picked up on the sound, continuing to eat his pancakes in relative bliss. 

“Cardinal, I want you to meet Isla Sinclair,” Imperator said once she had their attention. “Just as you are training to eventual take Papa’s place, she is training to eventually take mine.” 

The cardinal’s eyes snapped to meet Isla’s. He looked a bit surprised to see her. Maybe it was because she was so young and he didn’t see how she was fit to take Imperator’s place. That was the most likely scenario in Isla’s mind. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cardinal Copia,” Isla said. She was sure to turn on the charm she’d worked so hard to perfect. “I look forward to getting to know you and working with you.” 

Cardinal Copia extended a gloved hand across the table to delicately shake with Isla. He gulped visibly, and then forced himself to look her in the eyes as he spoke. 

“As I look forward to working with you, Miss Sinclair.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright wow i'm back with another chapter and per usual i'm gonna start off with my sappy thank you. i write a lot and i never share so i'm really excited to see that other people are actually reading this thing i'm writing for fun. even if it's just one other person that's super cool and i really do appreciate it, so thank you. 
> 
> and i have an headcanon that papa nihil has a sweet tooth so hence the pancakes!
> 
> also, what do you guys think isla's up to? any theories?


	4. where women belong

Isla stared at the enormous stained glass rendition of Satan at the end of the dining hall. It wasn’t quite right. The artists who’d made it had gone with a much more monstrous looking version of Satan than the one that truly existed. The real Satan wasn’t so monstrous—he was beautiful. Isla knew this from personal experience. She’d talked to the Devil more times than she could count, more times than she’d ever truly cared to. 

“ _ Sind sie bereit? _ ” 

Isla jumped at the sound of Liesel’s voice, as the blonde had snuck up on her without having meant to. 

“Sorry,” Liesel apologized. “I didn’t mean to make you jump.” 

“It’s okay,” Isla assured her. “I’m ready, though.” 

“ _ Wunderbar! _ ” Liesel exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She started towards the door and Isla followed her as she explained, “Our first stop is going to be the greenhouses. Did you have greenhouses at your old abbey?” 

“No,” Isla said. The idea of having to do manual labor at a greenhouse made Isla grimace slightly. “We had food and everything delivered.” 

“Ah, of course,” Liesel said. “Well, you were much less isolated, being in the middle of New York City. Here everything is so far away that it is easiest if we do everything ourselves. Sister Imperator always says it is good to be self sufficient...even if being self sufficient means knowing how to get people to do things for you.” 

The two young women shared a laugh as they made their way down the cobblestone path. Sprawling gardens surrounded them, with bright flowers that caught Isla’s attention. Liesel, being used to it, walked as if the gardens weren’t even there and then held the door open for Isla to enter the greenhouse ahead of her. 

Inside, two dozen or so Brothers and Sisters of Sin were busy at work harvesting various fruits, vegetables, and medicinal plants. Isla was impressed with the array of things that they grew here at the abbey. She recognized plenty of things she could use in spells and potions if she needed to, and if she could figure out how to sneak in here sometime without anyone else noticing. 

“While Sister Imperator doesn’t do any of the manual labor here and won’t expect you to, it is important to make sure that everyone is getting their share done and getting it to the kitchens,” Liesel explained, tucking a loose white-blonde curl behind her ear. “Just a quick walk-through and a check should do, as well as checking the logs…” 

Isla was bored out of her goddamn mind while Liesel explained how the abbey kept logs of who did what, from the greenhouse duties to the kitchen duties to who had scrubbed the damn toilets. She didn’t give a shit about any of this. If learning how to check whether or not the toilets were clean was really going to be this much of her training, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to get through it. 

By lunch, Liesel had guided Isla through all of the morning chores—the greenhouse, the kitchens, cleaning duty, a daily check-in with the school the abbey ran—and Isla was exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. She knew none of this mattered because in time none of this would exist. And hopefully that time would be soon. 

Thankfully, Sister Imperator was finally done with her meeting with Papa Nihil by lunch, meaning that Isla got to go with her instead of staying with Liesel. She liked Liesel a lot, but she couldn’t tolerate listening to her any more in one day. She was far too detail oriented for Isla to handle. 

“I trust that Sister Tentiga gave you a thorough overview of your morning chores?” Sister Imperator asked as she guided Isla back to her office. 

“Very through,” Isla confirmed. 

Sister Imperator chuckled. 

“She is insufferably hard working, that one,” Imperator commented. “But someone around here has to be. Satan knows I don’t have time to be checking toilet logs nowadays.” 

“And that’ll be up to me?” Isla asked, hoping the answer would be no. 

Imperator shrugged. “Not necessarily. You’ll have to make sure everything is getting done, but if I were you, I’d just ask Sister Tentiga rather than exhausting yourself with all of that. I only wanted you to get a feel of what goes into keeping our unholy abbey running in tip-top shape.” 

“Thank Satan,” Isla said, causing Sister Imperator to laugh. 

“No, I have much bigger plans for you, my dear,” Sister Imperator said. Her mouth twisted into a dark grin as she shuffled Isla into her office, hastily shutting the door behind them. “Take a seat, please, and we’ll discuss.” 

So Isla did, sitting in the plush armchair across from Sister Imperator, who took a seat at her desk. Her office was much like Papa Nihil’s, though perhaps slightly smaller. 

“You know I brought you here because I believe you have great potential,” Imperator began, folding her hands elegantly atop her desk. Isla nodded, so she cleared her throat continued, “Since the inception of our unholy church thirty some-odd years ago, the Emeritus family has run things, as you are aware of. However, those blubbering idiots wouldn’t have gotten anything done without me behind the scenes, and what have I gotten for it? Jack shit.” 

Isla was surprised by Imperator’s sudden harsh shift, and the fact that she was even daring to speak ill of the beloved Papas. As surprised as she was, she loved it. She had a feeling this would only make things easier for her. 

“ _ I _ founded this church, Isla,” the old woman went on. “I had been serving our Master for years before Nihil ever came along...I had a group of likeminded people who engaged in rituals together, but it was never enough. Times were different then. Even the Satanists I surrounded myself with were misogynists...three-quarters of them would’ve left if I tried to put myself as their leader, and what good would that do, losing all of those souls that would otherwise go to Hell?” 

Sister Imperator paused, shaking her head with disgust. 

“So I realized I needed someone—a man—to be the figurehead,” she said. “And by chance I found Nihil, a blithering idiot willing to sell his soul for the chance to get in my pants. Just the kind of man I was looking for, but unfortunately, he came with sons from his past life. Three of them, the three Papas you have know. I waited and I lurked and I kept everything going behind the scenes, and still nothing. So, I decided to do what I wanted to do years ago, and I talked Nihil into agreeing to let the ghouls get rid of his moronic sons one and for all.” 

Isla’s dark eyes went wide. 

“ _ You _ were behind their murders?” she asked incredulously. It was taking every ounce of her willpower to conceal her grin. This kept getting better and better. 

“Of course,” Sister Imperator shrugged casually. “I needed the bastards out of the way once and for all. I would’ve killed Nihil as well, but we both know nature will take its course with him in a few months, if not sooner. And then I’ll finally have a path to where I belong: the head of the church.” 

“What about Copia?” Isla asked. “Isn’t he training to be the next Papa?” 

“Not really,” Imperator said with a roll of the eyes. “Well, sure, he  _ is _ , just so Papa doesn’t get suspicious, waiting all this time without naming a successor. I told him Copia would breathe new life into the church, and he believed me, hesitantly, but he did. But Copia’s another pitiful man, spending his hours on his own in the library or dancing or whatever it is that he does. Once Nihil’s dead, we’ll get him out of the way.” 

“We’ll…?” Isla repeated, raising a brow. 

“You will,” Imperator clarified. “Copia is weak-willed and pathetic, but he’s far from an idiot. He knows what happened to the Emeritus brothers and that I wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to him if he made me unhappy. He’s keeping his mouth shut because he wants the power, but he’ll never let me get close enough to kill him.” 

“So that’s where I come in,” Isla said. 

It wasn’t the most exciting thing, having to kill the cardinal. It’d be an easy job, but Isla had been hoping for more. 

“That’s only the start, my dear,” Imperator grinned wickedly. “Copia’s the only viable option to replace Nihil. There are a few young bishops, but they’re years away from being qualified. With him and the Emerituses finally out of the way, I take over, and when I inevitably die, you take my place. And we keep women exactly where they belong in the church: in power. Because Satan knows that men haven’t done anything notable for the church.  _ I _ have.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay here's another chapter! 
> 
> maybe i decided to make imperator a little more evil than she really is, but i love myself an evil woman, as i'm sure many of you guys do. what do you think of her little plan?
> 
> and holy shit, almost a hundred people have read my dumb ghost fic, the fuck?! i have no clue why, but i really appreciate it guys. let me know what you think in the comments!


	5. per aspera ad inferi

The night of Isla’s vows came much faster than she anticipated. Her first few days at the abbey were busy—between Liesel teaching her the ropes of the abbey’s daily upkeep and Sister Imperator explaining her grand scheme to her, Isla felt like she’d had practically no time to herself. She was hoping that her private suite would be ready for her now that she would finally be a real Sister of Sin and that she’d get some of that private time she so desperately needed. 

Today had been the worst of all. Sister Imperator woke her up far too early to start preparing for her vow ceremony. The preparation involved not being able to eat all day, having to take a ritual bath with her own blood mixed into the rose-scented water, and having a team of other Sisters brought in to make her up and prep her. They fixed her brows, gave her an intense skincare routine, clipped her nails and cuticles and painted her fingernails black, made sure she was clean shaven (and clean shaven  _ everywhere _ ), put her makeup on for her and fixed her hair, which took the longest. Isla had long, thick, defiant hair, and the hairdressing sister, Eleni, brought in by Sister Imperator kept having to do her hair over and over again to get it all right. 

“Too much hair,” Eleni chided. The Greek woman clicked her tongue at Isla and said, “If I were you, I would cut it off. Cut it to here.” 

She gestured to right above her shoulders, making Isla shudder. She’d had short hair in the past, back when she was a literal street urchin child in the city. She’d grown her hair out ever since, never wanting to be that urchin again. And then cancer robbed her of her hair, but Satan was nice enough to give it back to her after she’d healed, and she knew she’d never cut it again in her life, however long her life may end up being. 

Finally, after hours, Eleni and the other Sisters were satisfied with Isla’s makeover. She was impressed with their work. Eleni had finally tamed her hair, putting the top half into a crown braid around her head, while leaving the bottom half loose and curly and silky. Her makeup was minimal but done well, and she even found herself liking the way she looked in the simple crimson tunic dress she’d been put in. 

“Sisters, leave us, please,” Imperator commanded, rising from her seat in the corner. “I’d like a moment alone with Isla.” 

The Sisters nodded and bowed to their Mother Superior and quickly shuffled out of the room as they were told to, leaving Isla alone with Imperator, who was smiling at her like a proud wicked godmother. 

“I can’t believe tonight is finally the night,” Imperator said, clutching Isla’s hands in hers. “I’ve been waiting for years for the right Sister to come around, one I could confidently leave the church to someday...I hoped it would come sooner, but it seems our lord Satan had other plans, as this does seem like perfect timing, and you are the perfect candidate.”

“But why me, Sister?” Isla asked, playing dumb. 

Imperator tilted her head, giving Isla a slight sweet grin. 

“Well, I see myself in you, Isla,” she said. “I remember when Lamia called me all those years ago, telling me she’d found you selling stolen Catholic artifacts all on your own as a child. She wanted to take you into the church but it was an unorthodox thing to do—acts of charity like that are meant for the Christians, as you know.” 

The two women shared a laugh. 

“But when I flew in to meet you, I knew Lamia was right for wanting you in our ranks,” Imperator continued. “Even as a child you were quick-witted and devious, always quick to indulge in sin. You totally devoted yourself to Satan and you allowed him to lead you to a life of indulgence and pleasure, and you worked your way up the church’s ladder by calculated manipulation, much like I did. That’s how I knew you were the perfect one to succeed me. You always figured out how to get what you wanted, and I respect that.” 

“Thank you, Sister,” Isla said, still feigning the unknowing act. “I hope I do you proud.” 

“Of course you will, dear,” Imperator said, reaching up to pat her cheek. Her gray eyes scanned Isla’s face as her grin settled a bit. “Everything changes after tonight. You get a real bit of power here, and Papa Nihil’s condition has taken a turn for the worse—he’s too ill to attend tonight, leaving it all up to Copia. Satan willing, we’ll be running this place in a few week’s time.” 

Isla grinned back at Imperator and said, “Satan willing.” 

x X x

Cardinal Copia stood in the sacristy alone, adjusting his biretta and leather gloves as he looked himself over in the tall standing mirror. Tonight was the night Isla Sinclair would finally join the church and he was going to be the one performing her vow ceremony. Papa Nihil had come down with another case of pneumonia, and by Sister Desidia’s orders, wasn’t allowed to get out of bed or leave his room. So, he’d reluctantly handed off the torch to Copia, at least for the evening. Copia was hoping this would mean that Papa would finally trust him with more duties around the church after months of ‘training,’ but he knew better than to get his hopes up. 

Copia also knew better than to be excited for tonight’s ceremony and festivities. He knew there was something off about the Sinclair girl. It was odd of Sister Imperator to bring in an uninitiated woman all the way from America as her successor in the first place, since the abbey was teeming with much more qualified candidates. That, and there was something off about Isla herself, something he couldn’t quite place a finger on. There was something sly about her, like she wasn’t the devoted Satanist that Imperator portrayed her to be, but someone who had an ulterior motive for joining the church, though Copia couldn’t imagine what that could possibly be. 

Then again, he wasn’t exactly who he presented himself to be either. The act of the bumbling cardinal was weighing heavy on him as of late. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the act. Sure, parts of what he presented of himself were real—he did love the library and he did love dancing and he did love his rats—but he was sick of playing dumb, sick of kissing Nihil’s wrinkly ass just for a chance to get ahead. He hoped the old geezer would finally die so that he could replace him and become Papa like he was meant to be. 

_ If  _ Isla Sinclair didn’t get in the way of that. He just had a feeling that he would, one that he couldn’t shake nor explain. 

A tickling at his ankles caught his attention, breaking him out of his train of thought. It was a rat, a plump, well fed brown-haired rat nipping at him for attention. 

“Ah, Cosmael,  _ sei tornato _ ,” he greeted gently. He leaned over so that the rat could crawl into his palm, as if it had been trained to do so, and he lifted it to sit upon his shoulder as he fed it a pellet from his pocket. “What did you find out about the slippery little American?” 

The rat squeaked into his ear, which, somehow, the cardinal perfectly understood. His expression slumped with disappointment, but he gave the rat another pet in praise regardless. 

“Very well,” Cardinal Copia sighed. “Nothing for now... _ grazie comunque _ .” 

With another squeak, the rat was gone, scurrying back into the hole in the wall that it came in through. Just in time too, as the ghouls and ghoulettes filtered into the room after only a slight knock. 

“Ready boss?” Swiss asked. 

Swiss, and occasionally Dewdrop, had taken to calling Copia ‘boss’ in a slightly mocking tone since they had technically become his ghouls. They still were wary about him and rather untrusting, which frustrated the cardinal. None of the other Papas had ever had issues with his ghouls before, and yet Copia’s were inexplicably willful. Not always in a bad way, but definitely in an annoying way. 

“Is everyone else ready?” Cardinal Copia countered. 

“Yep,” Aether answered. “And Sister Imperator has the new Sister all ready to go at the other end of the cathedral.” 

At the mention of Isla, Copia could’ve sworn he saw Dew and Aether exchange some sort of glance, but he couldn’t be sure because of their masks. Even if he could be sure he saw it, their masks would’ve definitely prevented him from being able to discern any meaning. Still, he had to wonder if that look meant that the ghouls had sensed something strange about Isla as he had. 

“Well, then let us go,” Copia said. “Grab your instruments, ghouls and ghoulettes—it’s showtime.” 

x X x

The opening bassline of “Con Clavi Con Dio” rumbled throughout the cathedral, signaling that it was time for the ceremony to being. The grand doors swung open on their own, allowing the procession of Sisters of Sin to filter their way inside. Isla and Sister Imperator were last, walking arm-in-arm down the center aisle, the marble floors cold against Isla’s bare feet. 

The cathedral was enormous and cavernous, the most elaborate and wickedly beautiful sight that Isla had ever seen. Infernal stained glass art lined the other walls and an elaborate grucifix was made into the floor before the altar. The pews were lined with a thousand or so Satanists clad in black robes. They all took their hoods off as Isla and Sister Imperator passed them, and Isla was sort of surprised to see that they were all smiling at her, some even dabbing tears away from their eyes. They seemed genuinely happy that they were gaining another member. 

Once they reached the front of the cathedral, the Sisters took their seats in the first two empty rows of pews. Sister Imperator guided Isla up to the altar as the song ended. The ghouls, who had been playing passionately mere seconds ago, all turned into still, stoic statues on cue as they no longer had music to play. Another smaller ghoul appeared to take the thurible from Copia’s fingers. With his hands free, he turned to Imperator while the congregation took their seats, and after a nod from Sister, Copia cleared his throat and turned back to the church. 

“We’ve gathered here tonight, beneath the blood moon, to welcome a new Sister of Sin into our unholy congregation,” Copia announced. He gestured back to Isla with a leather-gloved hand. “Tonight Isla Sinclair becomes one of us.” 

A thunderous round of applause erupted from the cathedral, the most passionate of which came from Liesel, who was sitting front and center.  

“Yes, yes, thank you,” Copia went on, silencing the crowd. “Let us get on with it. Sister Imperator, please bring her forward.” 

Sister Imperator did just that, standing with her hands carefully atop Isla’s shoulders as Copia stood to face them. 

“Do you, Sister Imperator, present Isla as a worthy candidate for our infernal congregation?” Copia questioned. “A willing devotee of Satan, who you believe will pledge her eternal life to his infernal majesty?” 

“I do,” Imperator said with conviction. 

“Very well,” Cardinal Copia nodded. He looked to Isla, startled by the sensation of looking into her endlessly dark eyes. “And do you, Isla, come here willingly to devote yourself fully and eternally to Satan? Do you pledge yourself to live by His vows of luxury, indulgence, and rebelliousness?” 

“I do.” 

Copia and Isla stood there for much longer than they should’ve, staring each other down. If Sister Imperator hadn’t cleared her throat, they might’ve been content to stay there like that all night. 

“Good,” Copia said, suddenly feeling awkward. He quickly gestured for the ghouls to remove the lid from the altar bed, revealing the anti-baptismal tub that laid beneath. “Then so you shall be anti-baptised in his name.” 

Sister Imperator took a step back, and Isla knew what to do, easily slipping out of her tunic dress to reveal her fully naked self. Copia turned back to face her and gulped. He’d seen plenty of women (and men, for that matter) in his day, but never before had he seen someone who so fully and completely embodied beauty as Isla did. She was tall and had curves in the right places, her skin pale and even and blemishless, her legs long and toned, suggesting she may be a dancer. 

Satan was testing him tonight. 

Cardinal Copia forced his eyes away from her, and pointed for her to get into the tub, which she did, with a helping hand from Dew. She knew what to do once she was in the water—she presented her forearm to Rain, who made a clean cut into her flesh, letting her blood flow into the water, blooming in red flowers. 

Copia walked around to the back of the tub, and placed his hands on her shoulders. She craned her neck back to look at him as he touched her, a strangely serene smile on her lovely face. 

“In Satan’s name, you devote yourself to him,” he said. “ _ Per aspera ad inferi. _ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess 4 a.m. updates are going to be a thing with this fic? i always get writing at 3 a.m. it's an awful habit but that's just how my brain works lmao. 
> 
> anyways, i'm glad my catholic school knowledge came in useful with this. imagine what the nuns from my high school would think about me liking ghost let alone writing a sinful fic like this!
> 
> oh well. i know i'm not alone there. 
> 
> thanks again for all the reads! i hope you guys like this longer chapter where we see more of copia. i can't believe there are over a hundred reads on this in only a few days? that's so crazy to me. but seriously thank you it warms my dark little heart to know that people are seeing this and leaving kudos so thank you thank you thank you!
> 
> i'll probably see you guys again at 4 a.m. tomorrow so enjoy this chapter and have a great day until then!


	6. our father who art in hell

Isla wasn’t sure if Cardinal Copia meant to hold her under the water long enough for her to lose consciousness, but he did, and she once again found herself in the all encompassing blackness that was the void. She was inclined to believe it was an accident, but she couldn’t be sure. Either way, she was here, and she knew what that meant—she’d be coming face to face with Satan again in a matter of seconds. 

“Isla, Isla, Isla,” came Satan’s familiar low voice. “This eager to see me, are you?” 

“This actually wasn’t my doing,” Isla replied. Her eyes scanned the darkness, trying to see where he was. “Your cardinal sent me here...but you already knew that, didn’t you?” 

Satan chuckled. 

“Of course, I made him do it,” he said. “He’ll feel guilty about almost killing you later, but you and I both know you’ll be fine. I made you unkillable, after all.” 

“Only by conventional means,” Isla reminded him. “Speaking of my deal with you, what’s going on, exactly?” 

“What do you mean?” Satan countered. “You’re going to take over my church, which is currently useless, and you’re finally going to do what no one else could do before—end this shithole of a world once and for all.” 

“You know, this would be a lot easier if I could see you,” Isla said, frustrated. 

Satan groaned overdramatically as he revealed himself from the darkness. He was as perfectly beautiful and dangerous looking as ever, staring at Isla condescendingly and yet affectionately, making her stomach do somersaults. 

“You’re awfully mouthy for someone talking to a god,” Satan said. 

“I thought you said we were equals.” 

“Yes, but only  _ after _ you hold up your end of our bargain,” he said. “For now, you’re still my little pet, babe.”

“And yet you won’t tell me what you want me to do.” 

“What’s the fun in that?” Satan chuckled. “I’ve given you all the tools necessary to usher in the apocalypse, all you have to do is put the pieces together. I’ve given you everything all of my previous creations lacked. I chose you for a reason, Isla: I know you can do this.” 

Isla felt every nerve in her body stand at full attention as fear coursed through her veins. Satan was circling her like a hawk, grinning sinisterly. 

“You are my last rider,” he said, tracing a line over her bare shoulder with a single finger. “My finest creation. My  _ best _ creation, and by far my most beautiful. All of the others were a means to an end, a means to your end. War, famine, pestilence...they were all different means to the same end—death. With you, I cut all of the middle men. You will do what the others couldn’t.” 

“What if I don’t?” she asked defiantly. “What if I can’t?” 

Satan cackled and grabbed her throat, easily encasing all of it in one hand. Isla gasped, knowing that he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her. 

“I like that you question authority,” he chuckled. He choked her long enough to make her scared but released her just as quickly, making her fall to the floor as she gasped for breath. “But I know you wouldn’t dare to defy me.” 

With his powers, he summoned her back to him, holding her by the throat so that they were face to face, eye to eye, Isla’s toes barely touching the surface beneath her. Her hands instinctively shot up to try to pry his grip off of her, to no avail. She should’ve known better than to try to fight off the Devil. 

“I know your deepest, darkest fears, Isla,” he said menacingly. “You pretend to be heartless and cold, but I know there’s still a soft heart buried deep somewhere in there. One that wants to be loved and accepted. One that would hate to be banished into the void for all eternity, cold and alone and empty, no one to love or be loved by...which is exactly what I would do if you dared to defy me.”

He cast her back to the floor forcefully, snorting out his nose. 

“As nice as it was to have this little visit to remind you not to get smart with me, I think it’s time I send you back upstairs,” Satan said. “You have a church to overtake and a world to end. I’d get busy if I were you.” 

x X x

Isla came to coughing and snorting up all the water than had filled her lungs. Her ears were clogged with water as well and ringing, but she could just barely hear all the commotion going on around her—Sister Imperator was screaming for Copia to let go of her, one of the ghouls was prying his hands off of her, causing her to come shooting up out of the water, and the congregation was gasping and screeching as they watched the nearly-drowned girl coming back to life. Another ghoul grabbed Isla under her arms and easily lifted her out onto the floor, and with one swift push against her chest, caused her to expel all of the water from her lungs that she hadn’t yet gotten up on her own. 

She was shaking, cold and wet and nearly in shock. She should’ve been used to death and near-death by now, but it was always a shock to her system. 

“Are you alright?” asked the ghoul who’d been helping her. He was much more soft spoken than she’d anticipated, and she could clearly see his gentle blue eyes behind his mask now that he was leaning so close to her. 

“I...I think so,” she replied. 

Her teeth were chattering, and she was immensely grateful to feel someone drape a blanket over her shoulders. One of the ghoulettes had done it, while the other ghoulette took to trying to dry out her hair, something she also appreciated. 

“The ceremony is over,” Sister Imperator announced to the anxious congregation. “Everyone get out of here and go back to your rooms. Now.” 

No one dared defy Sister Imperator, and the congregation quickly emptied the church as quickly as they could, stealing glances back at Isla as they went. She could barely see them, her distance vision still blurry and her mind still hazy from nearly dying yet again and having another threatening encounter with Satan. 

“Isla, dear, are you alright?” Imperator asked. 

Isla looked up to see the extreme worry in her face. Imperator was scared because she knew she was hopeless without Isla, and because she was now worried Copia was onto them. Of course he wasn’t—Isla knew that much from what Satan had just told her—but Imperator didn’t know that, and couldn’t know that. 

“I-I w-w-will b-b-b-be,” she stammered. 

Her teeth were chattering still as she hadn’t warmed up. She didn’t remember the bath being cold, but sitting wet on the cold marble floor had made her just about start to freeze. 

“Dewdrop, warm her up, will you?” Imperator requested. 

One of the shorter ghouls nodded and stepped forward. He placed a light hand on Isla’s shoulder, and immediately injected warmth into her veins, spreading much needed heat throughout her body. 

“Keep her warm and get her to the hospital wing,” Imperator said. “She’s damn near in shock.” 

The ghouls nodded and went into action. The same ghoul who’d rescued her from the tub hoisted her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all, and along with the two ghoulettes and Dewdrop, all made their way out of the cathedral, off to the hospital wing. 

With Isla warmer and off to the hospital wing, Imperator turned her attention and her growing fury to Copia, who was standing at the edge of the altar bewildered. He was wide-eyed and in his own kind of shock, unable to fathom what he’d just done, let alone why he did it. It was as if someone else had taken control of him for a minute. He truly hadn’t meant to hurt the girl, no matter how much he distrusted her. But he had, and now he felt strangely and intensely awful about it. 

A swift slap across the face by Imperator woke him out of his daze. Too shocked to make an utterance in pain, Copia cupped the growing welt on his cheek with his hand, still damp from the bath he’d nearly drowned Isla to death in. 

“What the unholy hell do you think you’re doing, Cardinal?” Imperator demanded sharply. “Trying to kill a sister on the night of her vows before the entire congregation?” 

“I truly didn’t mean to Sister,” Copia stumbled. He knew she wasn’t going to buy that, but it was the truth, and therefore it was all he had to offer. “I-I-I...I honestly don’t know what came over me, I-I just…” 

Copia’s voice trailed off as Imperator’s stare grew more heated. He could feel the anger radiating off of her and he knew just how dangerous her anger was. 

“Perhaps this was a mere accident, and perhaps it was not,” Imperator said, stepping closer to the cardinal. “But if anything happens to Isla, anything whatsoever, you can be sure you’ll suffer severe punishment, more than whatever Papa Nihil will give you for what happened tonight.” 

“Sister, you’re not going to tell Papa about this, not in his current condition…?” 

“Word spreads fast in the abbey, you know that,” Imperator replied, smirking. “And I’m sure Papa Nihil won’t exactly be thrilled to find out that you tried to murder one of our own before the entire congregation.” 

Copia’s heterochromatic eyes went wide before narrowing. So this was how Imperator was going to play her little game. 

“Ghouls, take the cardinal back to his quarters, swill you?” Sister Imperator commanded. “And make sure he doesn’t leave until I’ve spoken to Papa.” 

The ghouls nodded in agreement and did as they were told. Aether and Swiss flanked Cardinal Copia like guards escorting a prisoner, while Mountain lurked behind as the four of them exited the cathedral and made their way down the stone path that lead back to the abbey. Overhead, the blood moon shone bright red, illuminating everything in an eerie reddish light that Copia would’ve found beautiful, if it wasn’t an ironic reminder of the near murder he’d nearly committed. 

“Were you bullshitting Imperator back there?” Swiss asked, once they were far enough away from the cathedral to be sure that Sister Imperator couldn’t hear them. “Did you really do that to her on accident?” 

“Truly,” Copia said. 

He looked up into the ghoul’s eyes behind the mask, hoping to relay his honestly. 

“Well, shit,” Swiss uttered. 

Confused, Copia raised an eyebrow, and looked between the ghouls for some sort of explanation. 

“We thought that maybe you tried to kill her on purpose because you sensed there was something off about her too,” Aether explained. “Ever since Dew and I got a whiff of her on her first night here, we knew there was something weird about her, but we can’t figure it out.” 

Now Copia was intrigued. If the ghoul sensed something strange about Isla Sinclair, then it had to be true, meaning he wasn’t as delusional as he was beginning to think he was. 

“What do you mean by weird?” Copia inquired. 

“We don’t know,” Swiss said. “We were hoping you had a clue and that’s why you tried to kill her.” 

“She just has a... _ strange _ smell,” Aether said. “Not bad, but distinct. Not like any other human we’ve ever smelled before...like…” 

“Death,” supplied the usually silent Mountain ghoul. “Like death.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow another 4 a.m. update i'm on a roll! this fic has been super fun to write because i love writing anything with demons and satan and shit and ghost makes it even better. 
> 
> thanks again for reading and don't be afraid to leave a comment and let me know what you think! it's so crazy to me that people are even reading this in the first place omg thank you guys for being so awesome esp. on my first ever ao3 venture!
> 
> i'll see you guys again at 4 a.m. tomorrow probably! 
> 
> also what do you think of satan here? he's one of my favorite characters to write and he even shows up a lot in my original fiction that i write.


	7. black roses and a new beginning

Against the wishes of Sister Desidia, the Sister who oversaw the abbey’s hospital, Liesel refused to leave Isla’s side for the night. She may not have known Isla all too well, but she was already attached to her and considered her to be a friend, and was therefore beyond worried to see her almost get murdered. Liesel may not have known what to make about Cardinal Copia nearly drowning Isla before the entire congregation—it didn’t seem like something the mild-mannered cardinal would do, but he had—but that was beside the point, at least for now. Liesel wanted to make sure her friend was okay, because even after being personally warmed up by Dewdrop, she seemed shaken and slightly sickly, and had fallen into a deep sleep after being given some sleeping medication by Sister Desidia. 

Liesel too ended up dozing off in the chair by Isla’s bedside, but was surprised to find that she’d slept through the night, as sunlight was creeping through the window shades by the time she roused. She’d been awoken by the sound of footsteps, and was surprised once more when she found a ghoul, Swiss, tiptoeing to set a vase of black roses on Isla’s bedside table. 

“What’re you doing?” Liesel asked, squinty her sleepy eyes and yawning. 

“Making a delivery for the cardinal,” Swiss answered. He was smirking, not that Liesel could see it. “He feels awful about what happened last night.” 

“Well he should,” Liesel retorted. “He almost murdered her.” 

“ _ Almost _ ,” Swiss said. He tucked his arms behind his back once he’d placed the flowers. “But she’s fine now, isn’t she?” 

“No thanks to the cardinal,” said Liesel. “And flowers certainly aren’t going to make up for it.” 

“Probably not,” shrugged the ghoul. “That’s for Isla to decide, though.” 

Liesel narrowed her eyes slightly. She was taken aback by the ghoul’s lack of a reaction to an attempted murder. Part of the ghouls’ job was to protect the members of the congregation, whether it be from outsiders or from each other. The fact that Swiss didn’t seem to be taking this seriously concerned her. Even if it had truly been an accident as Copia had proclaimed it to be, it was still should’ve been alarming to the ghouls, at least in Liesel’s mind. 

There was something strange going on with Isla. Liesel didn’t know what it was, but she knew that no one was acting quite right around her. The ghouls were too cavalier, Imperator was too protective and secretive, and, well, Copia had tried to kill her. Something was going on, and Liesel was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

As if on cue, Isla roused from her sleep as soon as Swiss was gone. Well, she hadn’t really been sleeping, but she’d done a fantastic job at faking it. She’d heard everything that had been said to her over the past few hours, but she feigned sleep in order to not have to answer to anyone and in a genuine attempt to get some rest. Nearly dying and having a conversation with Satan were both draining enough experiences on their own, so together they’d taken just about everything out of Isla. 

“You’re awake,” Liesel grinned, scooting to the edge of her chair to get closer to Isla. “I was starting to think you were going to sleep forever.” 

Isla smiled a little, brushing her hair from her eyes. 

“Did you stay the whole time?” she inquired. Liesel nodded, making Isla feel an unfamiliar sensation—appreciation and affection. She tried to swallow down those feelings as she said, “That was really sweet of you, but you really didn’t have to do that.” 

“Yes I did,” Liesel replied. “I was worried sick about you and I wasn’t about to let you spend the entire night in the hospital wing on your own.” 

Isla’s smile softened. She was good at reading people. She could tell that Liesel was being honest. For some reason, the girl cared about her. She didn’t know why, she didn’t know if she could quite trust it yet, but Liesel did care about her. 

“Thank you,” Isla said. “That was really nice.” 

Isla turned to face her blonde friend more, catching a glimpse of the vase of flowers that were on top of her nightstand. There were thirteen of them in total, elegantly arranged in an expensive-looking cut crystal vase, with a note tied round with a sheer red ribbon. 

“Are these from you too?” she asked, taking the folded note between her fingers. “They’re beautiful.” 

“No, they’re from Cardinal Copia,” Liesel said disdainfully. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, her expression souring. “Apparently he thinks flowers are the way to apologize for attempted murder.” 

Isla chuckled softly as she undid the slip of paper to reveal the note, which was written in a fancy script. She understood why Liesel was upset. She would be too, if Satan hadn’t confirmed to her that Copia hadn’t meant to, but rather was used as a pawn for a moment. The man probably did feel bad for what had happened, and though flowers were a small gesture, Isla appreciated it. 

“What’s the note say?” Liesel inquired. 

“Cardinal Copia wants to apologize over dinner,” Isla said, giving her friend the gist of the message. “He feels we got off on the wrong foot and would like a fresh start, if I’m willing to do so.” 

Liesel laughed, unable to believe what she was hearing. 

“You’re not actually going to go, are you?” Liesel asked. Isla shrugged, causing Liesel’s expression to fall with realization. “Unholy Satan, you  _ are _ going to go, aren’t you?” 

“I think so,” Isla nodded. She sat the note aside and laid back in bed, still smiling ever so slightly. “I mean, if he’s to take over for Papa Nihil and I’m to take over for Sister Imperator, we’re going to be working together an awful lot, aren’t we? It’d be best if we learned to get along, or at least got past trying to kill each other.” 

x X x

Cardinal Copia sat at one end of the table that had been placed in Papa Nihil’s currently unused office. He’d had the ghouls prepare it for his dinner with Isla, which was due to commence any moment now. He’d been sitting and waiting for her for almost an hour. He’d purposely come in early to get settled and gathered his thoughts, and to try to figure out what he was going to ask her about. 

After hearing that the ghouls also had uneasy feelings about her last night, he was convinced he had to go forward in his pursuit of finding out who—or what—Isla Sinclair really was. It was clear that she wasn’t the devoted Satanist that Sister Imperator painted her to be, but perhaps the old woman already knew that, and it was the reason why she’d brought Isla here. In the past few months, Copia had come to realize that he no longer knew what Sister Imperator was motivated by, nor what she was capable of. He’d never thought she’d orchestrate the murders of the Emeritus brothers, and yet she had without a second thought or much care at all. If she could do that, she could do anything, including trying to get Copia out of her way by any means necessary. 

Maybe Isla was part of that. Maybe she had some sort of supernatural ability, one that could make her a natural born killer, and Imperator was sending her in to kill Copia. He could see why she’d be the perfect woman for the job. Young, beautiful, intelligent, cunning, and, he’d recently learned she was a former ballet dancer—she was the absolute perfect bait for Copia, almost too perfect. Too perfect to trust, but perfect enough to capture his interest, which she had from the moment he first laid eyes on her in this very room. 

And one day, when the church was his, this would be his office. He just had to make sure that Isla Sinclair wouldn’t get in the way of that. 

A gentle knock came at the door, interrupting Copia and his thoughts. Quickly, he gave the hundreds of rats that surrounded him a hand gesture which the immediately understood, as they dispersed and disappeared into the nooks and crannies of the room, going completely out of sight. 

Copia cleared his throat and called, “Come in.” 

The door creaked open and Isla slipped inside, appearing to have made a full recovery from the previous night’s mishap. The Cardinal truly did feel awful for what he’d done. He may not trust her, but he had no reason to kill her, at least not yet. And he didn’t know why, but the sight of her blue-lipped and near shock as Rain forced the water from her lungs scared the absolute hell out of him and tugged at something in his chest that he thought went numb centuries ago. 

But the young woman that came into the room hardly resembled the one that barely clung to life last night. Isla was as radiant as ever, her dark hair gleaming in a simple French braid over her shoulders, starkly contrasting the even paleness of her complexion. Her almost-black eyes glittered in the dim light, which, at certain angles, made it look as though there could actual be bits of gold in her irises. She was dressed as a Sister of Sin now, in a simple floor-length black tunic dress with a grucifix dangling from her neck, but it suited her, like she’d been wearing the garb her entire life. 

“You look...wonderful,” Copia said, feeling as though he was tripping over his words. 

He rose from his seat to pull out her chair for her, which she thanked him for as he pushed her back in. He scrambled back to his seat, but poured them each a glass of the abbey’s finest red wine before sitting back down. 

“I’m glad to see you’ve made such a quick recovery, Miss Sinclair,” he said. “And I can’t apologize enough for—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she interjected. 

She made a dismissive hand gesture as she sipped her wine, leaving Copia a bit dumbfounded. She was acting like he’d made a minor mistake, like bumping into her in the hallway, not like he’d nearly killed her twenty four hours ago. 

“It was an accident, I know that,” Isla said. The smile that graced her face was sincere and only made Copia more confused and flustered than he already felt. “So I’m not going to hold it against you. How about we start fresh, like you suggested in your note?” 

Without thinking about it, the corners of Copia’s lips lifted into a shadow of a smile. 

“I’d like that,” he nodded. “Let’s start over, as if we’ve never met.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cardinal,” Isla said, playing into their little game. She extended a lithe hand across the table for him to shake. 

“And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Isla,” he replied. 

“Ah, no, it’s Sister Caedis now,” she remarked. “Sister Imperator gave me my new name this morning.” 

Copia raised a brow.  _ Caedis? Murder? Was Imperator really going to be that obvious about it?  _

“Well, Sister Caedis,” Copia said, gently lifting her fingers to his lips, if only for a moment. “It is my utmost pleasure to meet you.” 

 


	8. of witches and satanists

“So, then, Sister Caedis, tell me about yourself,” Cardinal Copia implored. “Sister Imperator tells me that you used to dance, yes?” 

The ghouls came in through the back door with their meal, placing platters down before each of the humans and lifting the covers off for them. Copia had requested an elaborate meal for tonight: osso bucco with a side of risotto, and the finest red wine the abbey had to offer, which they had already begun to indulge in. He was pleased to find that the meal surpassed his expectations. However, he wasn’t so pleased to see Isla scrunch her nose as she observed the meal before her, though she did her best to keep an even-keeled, polite expression on her lovely face. 

“I did dance, for most of my life,” Isla confirmed. She turned to the ghouls and gave them a polite smile, saying, “Thank you.” 

Confused by the unorthodox politeness, the ghouls, Aether and Dew, simply gave curt nods and then looked to Copia. He understood what their looks meant:  _ get all the information you can out of her.  _ He nodded to them to confirm that their message was received, and with that, they left the room. 

“Ballet?” Copia asked, turning his attention back to Isla. 

She had already pushed the osso bucco back, instead opting to eat the risotto on its own. 

“I guess Sister Imperator has told you a lot about me,” she said. Hell, her smile was the most endearing thing that Copia had seen in his unbelievably long life. “I feel bad, not knowing anything about you.” 

“There is not much to know,” he assured her. “My life has been dedicated to serving Satan, which I have done with the church for nearly thirty years. Before that, I served Satan on my own, travelling throughout Europe. There’s not much more to my story than that.” 

“I’m sure that you’re selling yourself short, your Eminence,” Isla replied smoothly. 

“Perhaps,” he said. “But please, indulge me, and tell me about your dance career. I’d love to hear about it. I dance from time to time myself, you know…” 

“And you said there wasn’t any more to your story,” Isla responded playfully. “I think a dancing Satanic cardinal is quite the interesting story.” 

Surprisingly, the two shared a laugh. But Isla understood Copia’s begging look, and after another bite of risotto and a slight sigh, she decided that she would indulge him. 

“I don’t know, ballet was always just...my thing,” she said. 

For the first time, she avoided making eye contact, smiling bittersweetly down at her plate. Copia realized he’d struck some sort of nerve—for the first time, he was seeing through her calculated exterior, and what laid beneath intrigued him even more. 

_ Damn her.  _

“I’m sure Sister Imperator told you that the sisters in New York found me as an orphan, correct?” she asked. Copia nodded, prompting her to continue. “Well, when I was a little girl, there was a ballet studio I always passed when I didn’t have a home to go to, and I remember I’d stand outside the big window and copy what all of the other little girls did because I wanted to dance too...when the sisters took me in, they’d always catch me dancing while I did my chores, which I got beat for more than a few times. But I was lucky enough to have Sister Lamia, who decided to do something productive with my dancing by enrolling me in ballet classes with some of New York’s finest teachers, and it was always a part of my life from then on. It was the thing that brought me the most happiness, besides serving Satan, of course.” 

When Copia had planned this meeting, he had planned on taking everything Isla said with a grain of salt. Now he wasn’t so sure. She seemed so genuine right now, reminiscing on her childhood and her years of ballet classes. He couldn’t imagine why she’d lie about that. What good would it do to make up that whole elaborate story, when, for her purposes, saying she danced would’ve been enough? 

No, she wasn’t lying, not now, and Copia knew that. What he didn’t know was why he found her so endearing, though he knew he hated feeling like he was warming up to her. 

“You’re not a fan of the osso bucco?” Copia questioned, changing the subject. He didn’t think he could handle anymore getting to know her. He needed a moment of talking about something else. 

“I try not to eat a lot of meat,” Isla confessed. “I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s delicious, but I can’t…” 

“You’re a vegetarian?” he asked. 

Isla shrugged. 

“Not by choice,” she said. “I just don’t like the idea of eating something that was once alive, if that makes any sense.” 

“It makes sense,” Copia assured her. “I just wish I would’ve known, so I could’ve prepared something more to your liking.” 

“Next time,” Isla suggested. “But for now, I can’t complain about this risotto. It’s delicious.”

“Next time,” he agreed. 

_ Next time.  _ He liked the sound of that. 

“Now, tell me a little something about yourself,” Isla said. Her smile was as charming as ever, and her expression read as genuine and interested. “I’d really like to hear about you. I’m sure you’re selling yourself short.” 

“I can assure you I’m not,” Copia replied. “My life has been almost wholly devoted to serving Satan, which I’m sure you know enough about on your own.” 

“What about your interest in dance?” Isla prompted. “That surely isn’t something the average Satanist does.” 

“Perhaps not,” Copia said, chuckling a bit. “That was mostly before my time here in the church, while I was travelling throughout Europe...it was a long time ago, Isla, probably before you were even born. Parties and galas and dance clubs and discos were all the rage, and were even inclusive enough to make a man like myself feel at home.” 

Copia glanced across the candlelit table. The light was dancing in Isla’s dark eyes as she gazed intently at him. No one had ever looked at him like she was currently looking at him. They looked at him like he was odd, a weirdo, perhaps even a spectacle, or perhaps not at all. He’d had a few friends and lovers throughout the centuries, but he couldn’t recall any of them ever taking the same kind of warm interest in him that Isla currently was. 

If she was faking it, she was a damn good actress. Better than he’d expected. But he didn’t think she was acting. At least he hoped she wasn’t. 

“If you’re ever willing to share more, I’d love to hear about your disco days,” she told him, smiling brightly. “Do you have any pictures?” 

“Oh, no, no, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I am not the most photogenic man. I tend to avoid having my photograph taken.” 

That was a half lie. Copia didn’t really think that he was unphotogenic, but he did avoid having his photo taken. Photos would just create evidence that he didn’t age. If he did have any photos of himself from the 70’s to show Isla, she’d see that he looked the same then as he did now, and that would raise all sorts of questions that he didn’t want asked. It was best not to have photos taken of him. 

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Isla commented. Without breaking eye contact, she added, “You’re a very good looking man, Cardinal.” 

Embarrassingly, Copia felt his cheeks get hot and ducked his face into his occo bucco.  _ What was it about this young woman? _

“I’m old enough to be your father, Isla,” he reminded her.  _ At least. At the very least.  _

“So?” she retorted. “I’m only stating a fact.” 

For the first time, Copia felt like she’d lied. But that could be his own insecurities getting in his head. Either way, he was finished with his dinner as Isla was finished with hers, and therefore he felt it was time to call it a night. 

“Thank you for joining me for dinner, Sister,” Copia said as he rose to his feet, reverting to formality. “I greatly appreciate it as well as I appreciate your forgiveness.” 

“Of course,” she said. 

She got to her feet too and allowed him to take her hand and lift it to his lips again, only for the briefest of moments. 

“Thank you,” she added. The two locked eyes, and Isla smiled. “I look forward to getting to know you more, Cardinal.” 

“Same to you,” Copia said. “Would you like me to walk you back to your chambers for the evening?” 

“I think I’m capable of getting there on my own, thank you,” she replied. “Good night, Cardinal Copia.” 

“Good night, Sister Caedis.” 

And with that, Isla was gone, of course more than capable of getting back to her room on her own. Copia collapsed back into his chair as the rats flooded into the room once more, trying to process his new thoughts and feelings towards the still-mysterious Sister. 

x X x

Isla took her time going back to her room. She took the long way on purpose, walking the winding candlelit corridors languidly to try to get her thoughts together. She had ended up liking the Cardinal more than she had expected to. Liking him would only make it harder to kill him when the time came, and that time was creeping closer and closer with every second that passed. She was an official Sister of Sin now, and Sister Imperator had told her that Papa Nihil’s pneumonia was only getting worse. His death seemed to be imminent. With Nihil dead, Copia would have to be the next to go, and he would have to go at her hands. 

And after Copia was killed, the rest of the congregation would have to be killed as well. All by Isla’s hand. 

It was an enormous burden, an unfair burden to be placed on one single person, but it was Isla’s burden to bear. She had accepted the deal with the Devil. Sure, she had been young and dumb and terrified after her suicide attempt when Satan had first reached out to her, but she’d accepted his bargain nonetheless. He would give her life eternal and unimaginable powers, so long as she did his dirty work for him—killing his own dedicated congregation, who he no longer had faith in, and, after that, using her powers to usher in the End of Times. 

Satan had chosen her because she was a witch. Witches were rare, powerful beings, and witches who dedicated themselves to Satan were even rarer. He jumped on the chance to snatch Isla’s soul. 

But Isla never wanted to serve Satan. She never wanted to join the Sisters of Sin at the abbey in New York. She never wanted any of this. She never wanted to be a pawn, but it was all she was, all she ever had been. 

Before she became a pawn of Satan, she was the pawn of one of the last living witches. He found her living in the streets long before the Sisters of Sin did. He recognized her power and decided that he would send her to do what he couldn’t do on his on: infiltrate the Satanic church and destroy it from within as revenge for all the terrible things they had done to witches throughout the years. He was the man that Isla considered to be her father, the man who took her in and nurtured her and loved her and taught her his mother tongue. Even if it was all in vain to get her to trust him so that he could use her, Isla would always love him. She missed him terribly. And she hated knowing that she would ultimately fail him because her soul no longer belonged to him, but to Satan. 

She needed to see her father again. Even if he couldn’t save her or stop the mess she’d gotten herself into, he could provide some comfort before the inevitable end of it all. 

“Sister Caedis?” 

The voice made Isla jump, and at first she didn’t register that the person was addressing her. She still wasn’t used to being ‘Sister Caedis.’ She wasn’t sure if she ever would be. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” said the ghoul who stepped forward from the shadows. “I only wanted to ask how you were doing after the incident last night.” 

After a moment Isla recognized the soft blue eyes behind the mask. It was the same ghoul who’d forced the water out of her lungs and taken her to the hospital wing, the one who played the bass, or so she thought. 

“I’m perfectly fine now, thank you,” she replied. She put her smile back on, thought she found it more difficult than normal, given where her head was back. “Thank you for helping me last night. You saved my life.” 

The ghoul gave what appeared to be a slightly flustered sort of shrug. 

“That’s my job, serving and protecting the congregation,” he said. “I would’ve done it for anyone. But you’re welcome.” 

A beat passed in silence, before the ghoul spoke again. 

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room?” he offered. 

“Thank you, but I think—” Isla began, about to give him the same answer she’d given Copia earlier. 

“Oh, I know you’re capable of doing it on your own, but I thought you might like the company,” the ghoul interrupted. “The abbey is not as safe as it seems, Sister.” 

Well, Isla didn’t like the sound of that. But at the same time, she could no longer refuse the ghoul’s offer. So, she allowed him to walk her back upstairs to the room she shared with Liesel, an awkward silence hanging between the two of them the entire time. 

“Thank you, er…,” Isla faltered once they reached her door, as she didn’t know the ghoul’s name, if he had one at all. 

“Rain,” he supplied. “They call me Rain.” 

“Thank you, Rain,” she said. It wasn’t the kind of name she was expecting a demon to have. “For everything.” 

“You’re very welcome,” he said, ducking to a neat little bow. “Have a nice evening, Sister.” 

“You too,” she replied. 

She watched the ghoul disappear into the shadowy corridor, wondering what her life would be like now if she never ran away from home as a child in the first place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow here's the longest chapter yet! this chapter is also the beginning of my own added lore, which i know might be kind of confusing right now, but i promise it is all going to be explained better in further chapters. i just felt like it was time to get a little more of isla's backstory and why she's there and what she's up to for some context. so, look out for more satan lore and witchcraft lore in upcoming chapters!
> 
> this chapter also features a nice lil copia and isla scene which was so much fun to write. i personally love the idea of copia at a disco and would love to see a picture of that lmao. 
> 
> as always, thank you guys for taking the time to read my stupid ghost fic. it's really cool and does mean a lot to me and i can't believe i have over 200 reads rn so thank you so much. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter and i'll see ya next time xx


	9. the monster mash

The balance between life and death was extremely fragile. They were two sides of the same coin, the two states of being, neither able to exist without the other. To have mastery over life was to have mastery over death, and vice versa. It was a rare, highly coveted ability to have, to be able to control life and death, to be able to kill things with a glance and to revive them with a flick of the wrist. 

And, unfortunately, it was the very ability that Isla had been cursed with. 

Sister Imperator didn’t know about this gift. If she did, she would’ve put Isla to work as soon as she stepped foot in the abbey and gotten Nihil and Copia out of the way immediately. But she didn’t know of Isla’s gift. She couldn’t know about it. Therefore, she had to wait for Nihil to die on his own, which was getting harder and harder to do. 

Sister Imperator tiptoed across Papa’s room, setting down a fresh glass of water on his nightstand for him to drink when he woke. She slipped to sit in the chair she’d brought to his bedside, watching as he slept, making sure he was still alive and breathing. 

There was a part of her heart that hurt for Papa. Yes, she had her gripes with the man. He became hungry for power once he’d gotten a taste of it, and given that hunger to his sons, causing his family to have an iron fist of power over the church since its inception. She had done much of the heavy work behind the scenes, but Nihil and the Emeritus brothers were the face of it all, getting all the credit and the power and the recognition while she toiled away in the shadows. She wanted them out of the way because she wanted all the glory for herself, since it was rightfully hers to begin with, but she still couldn’t numb that part of her heart that ached for Papa Nihil. 

Had she loved him? Yes, at one point in time. In fact, she’d come to accept that a little bit of that love would linger for him forever. He was a great man when he wanted to be. Once she’d introduced him to Satan, he became a willing and able Satanist, and he had done his part to lead the church in the early days. Even if he hadn’t given her the credit she felt she deserved, he always made sure she was taken care of, that she got the room she wanted, that she vacationed where and when she wanted, that she had people to wait on her hand and foot, so on and so forth. He treated her like a goddess, better than most average women would dream of being treated by their husbands, but he never could step aside to let her take the place that was rightfully hers, instead handing it down to his bastard sons. 

For that, Imperator could never forgive him. Along with her love for him sat her hatred of him, something that was just as fierce. It was all so complicated. Perhaps after his death it wouldn’t be. 

“Sister?” came Papa Nihil’s weak, crackling voice. 

“Yes, it’s me, Papa,” she answered softly. It was uncharacteristically soft, something that Papa wasn’t able to pick up on in his current sickly state. She took the glass of water and lifted it to his dry lips, saying, “Have a drink.” 

Papa obliged, taking a long, grateful sip of the cool water. 

“Thank you, Sister,” Papa said through a slight cough. “I trust you’ve been keeping things running smoothly?” 

“Of course,” Sister Imperator assured him. With a light hand, she smoothed over what was left of his thin, white hair, which was left unruly from sleep and exposed as he wasn’t wearing his usual mitre. “Everything is going perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Hm,” Papa sighed. “What about your new little protogé? Has she recovered?” 

“Fully,” Imperator nodded. She patted his hand. “No need to worry about Sister Caedis. What you need to worry about is getting yourself recovered so that you can attend the Samhain festivities with everyone.” 

Papa’s brows shot into his receded hairline. 

“It’s almost Samhain already?” he asked incredulously. 

“It’s a little over a month away,” Imperator replied. “So you have plenty of time to rest up.” 

“But I should already be up and planning!” Papa fretted. He started to get out of bed, but Imperator easily kept him in his place. “This year’s festivities need to be bigger and better than ever, and I can’t plan something that big from my bed!” 

“Which is why you don’t have to,” Imperator told him. “As I’ve said, your job is to recover enough to make an appearance at Samhain.” 

“What,  _ you’re _ going to plan it?” Papa asked, raising a brow. 

Imperator’s lip twitched with annoyance.  _ I’ve pretty much planned it all on my own for the past thirty-odd years while all you’ve done is planned the dessert menu, you old coot,  _ she thought to herself. However, her exterior remained much calmer, and she even managed to give Papa a grin. 

“No, actually I was thinking about giving Cardinal Copia and Sister Caedis the responsibility to plan for Samhain,” she said. “I think it will be a wonderful test of their ability to work together and to see what they are able to do on their own.” 

Papa stared at Imperator skeptically, but once he saw that she was serious, he sighed and relented. 

“Fine,” he agreed begrudgingly. “But I’m not going to be happy if Mr. Twinkle Toes turns Samhain into some sort of Monster Mash.” 

x X x

Liesel was growing frustrated. She’d done nothing but try to be nice to Isla and get to know her, and though she and Isla did have a nice, friendly rapport going, Liesel still felt as though she knew next to nothing about the girl. This was maddening, seeing as Liesel had practically given Isla her entire life story by now. She’d told her all about being raised in a strict Catholic home in Germany, how she’d gotten the call from Satan while attending mass, and how she left her entire life and family behind to dedicate herself to serving him. She told Isla all about her love of drawing and painting, how she won multiple art shows at school, how she’d given up her art scholarship to university, and about how she hated bananas, and she got nothing in return. 

She felt like she was going to explode. 

All she wanted was to get to know Isla, to form a better, deeper friendship. But Isla wouldn’t crack. So Liesel resorted to something else from her past: spying. She’d spied on her sisters plenty as a girl, so she was really good at going through closets and drawers and looking through things and putting them back together so that no one ever knew. 

When Isla was called for another meeting with Sister Imperator and Cardinal Copia, Liesel pounced on her chance to spy. Isla’s new suite was nearly finished and she’d be moving out in a matter of days, meaning this was probably Liesel’s last chance to go through Isla’s things. 

She felt guilty for doing this, but she had to remind herself that she wasn’t doing it with ill intentions. She only wanted to get to know Isla better. And maybe getting to know Isla better would uncover the reason why the ghouls seemed to have such a strange view of her, one that made Liesel suspicious. 

Combing through Isla’s things, Liesel found that she had a lot of black clothing, not unusual for a Satanist. There was a stash of books—a collection of Dante, various Shakespeare plays,  _ Paradise Lost _ , and a few others—again, nothing unusual. She rifled through a small mahogany box full of jewelry and a few pictures of a younger version of Isla in ballet costumes, another small box with perfumes, and a drawer of socks and underwear and bras. Liesel pouted as she sat on her knees, putting her hands on her hips. So far there was nothing that would tell her anything unusual or interesting about Isla, and she just  _ knew  _ that something had to be here. 

She shut the doors and went to the closet, and found more of the same. More black clothes, more books, and, more surprisingly, a few old CDs containing homemade dance playlists of classical music. Liesel was getting ready to rip her hair out when something new caught her eye, something shiny and silver and just barely poking out of a discarded boot in the back corner of the closet. Liesel’s eyes lit up as she bent over to pick it up. 

The leather-wrapped handle was warm in Liesel’s hand, as if it had a life of its own. She turned over the knife in her hand as she examined it. It was intricately made, encrusted with dark, glimmering rubies at the end. The blade was shiny and sharp, made sharp enough to easily slice flesh without very much effort. The handle was a little shorter than Liesel’s palm, and the blade was a bit longer, perhaps. 

Liesel knew what kind of knife this was. It was an anthame, the kind of knife used in rituals by witches. She’d learned about witches during her first couple years of study here at the abbey when she was learning about the history of Satanism. Witches were Satan’s original followers because he granted them with their powers, but they broke away from him as time went on. Out of revenge, Satan caused all of the hideous Witch Trials throughout history. From what Liesel knew, all of the real witches were dead, long dead. Some regular people fancied themselves witches, but all of the ones that were truly lethal were supposed to have died centuries ago. 

And yet Isla had an anthame stowed in her closet. Liesel rushed to put it back as realization sank in. Isla couldn’t be one of those normal people who pretended to be a witch, or else there wouldn’t be anything suspicious about her. 

Isla Sinclair had to be a witch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i just say it was so much fun to write imperator and nihil here? i know the dynamic i'm giving them may not be 100% canon, but oh my, do i feel it. hopefully you guys do too. 
> 
> and i know i'm a repetitive sap when it comes to thanking you guys, but i'm not gonna stop. seeing that people are leaving kudos brings a smile to my face and it's so fucking cool that a couple of you are taking time out of your days to read my fic through and leave me comments. thank you guys so much for reading and enjoying my dumb lil fic along with me, it's really fuckin cool.


	10. nice catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh shit i think things are about to heat up here folks!
> 
> again, i gotta thank everyone who's taken the time to read this. i started this as a fun little something to do on the side, and as something to do instead of doing my actual research projects, but i never thought i'd get any reads at all when i posted to ao3. it's really cool and it really does mean a lot, so i'm not gonna stop thanking you guys. and hey, if you're someone who's read this far and haven't left a comment, why not? i'd love to hear from you!

Liesel didn’t know what to do with the new information she’d discovered. She wasn’t completely sure, but she was sure enough to be concerned. After finding the anthame in Isla’s closet, she found a silver offering dish, vials of dried herbs and unknown liquids, and a personalized grimoire, filled with scrawlings in English, German, Latin and some sort of runic script that Liesel couldn’t make heads or tails of. 

Everything was pointing to Isla Sinclair being a witch. There was no other logical explanation for her having all of the magical paraphernalia stashed in her closet. 

But there was something that still felt... _ off _ to Liesel. All of the witches were supposed to have died out centuries ago. Isla certainly wasn’t dead. So how could she be a witch? 

If Liesel was more brave, she would’ve confronted Isla with what she’d found. But Liesel wasn’t brave, and even if she was almost a hundred percent sure that Isla was a witch, she didn’t want to risk their potential friendship with the accusation. So Liesel kept a pleasant, quiet smile on her face as Isla returned from her dinner with the cardinal, and said nothing controversial to her roommate for the entire evening, instead falling into an anxious, restless slumber that she frequently woke from. 

Liesel may not have felt comfortable to bring the subject up to Isla, but it was already eating at her. She had to tell  _ someone _ . Who, though, she didn’t know. 

Liesel sighed to herself, sitting on the edge of her bed as she combed through her white-blonde locks. The bathroom door was open just enough for her to be able to get a glimpse of Isla, who was standing before the slightly foggy mirror, drying her long, dark locks. Liesel looked her over. She was tall and thin, slender but strong, the perfect build for the dancer that she was. She had a pale complexion, not marred by any noticeable freckles or scars, which contrasted starkly, yet elegantly, with her almost-black hair and eyes. On first glance, Isla looked sharp and sleek, but upon second glance, there was an obvious, charming sort of softness about her, perhaps due to the gracefulness with which she carried herself, as if she was always performing in her own little ballet. Maybe there was even something a bit exotic about Isla, something that blonde-haired, blue-eyed Liesel was jealous of in some way. 

Regardless, Isla was not the kind of person that Liesel could see as a witch. From what she knew, witches were harsh and ugly, having rejected Satan after becoming too hungry with their own power. It was Isla’s prettiness and gracefulness that made Liesel have second thoughts about the meaning of the things she’d found in Isla’s closet. But maybe that was exactly why Isla was so careful with how she looked and how she carried herself. It was a perfect cover. 

Dressed and ready for the day, Isla came back into the bedroom to get her shoes, causing Liesel to force herself to relax, so as not to make her suspicious. 

“Are you coming with me to the greenhouses this morning?” Liesel asked. Half of her wanted Isla there, and the other half of her was terrified at the prospect of spending any more time alone with her. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Isla apologized. She gave Liesel that wonderful smile of hers, the one that made everything else momentarily disappear from Liesel’s mind. “I have a meeting with Sister Imperator and Cardinal Copia. Sister Imperator has asked the cardinal and I to plan for Samhain this year.” 

Liesel raised a startled brow. Sister Imperator was already putting Isla and Copia in charge of Samhain, the church’s biggest event of the year? If Isla had already gained that much authority in the church, no one would ever believe little Liesel if she came forward with what she’d found. 

“I know, it’s a lot of responsibility,” Isla commented, seeing Liesel’s expression. “But I think that Cardinal Copia and I can handle it together.” 

“Oh, I think you two will do just fine,” Liesel replied. She was smiling, but it was forced. And unlike Isla, Liesel had not mastered the art of faking a smile. 

“Are you alright?” Isla asked, slipping her grucifix around her neck. “You seem like something is bothering you.” 

“I’m fine,” Liesel said. 

Her response had come too quickly and her smile was still too forced. Isla narrowed her eyes for a moment, knowing something wasn’t right with her roommate. 

“Are you sure?” Isla asked. 

“I’m sure,” Liesel nodded fervently. 

It was clear to Isla that Liesel was lying, but much to Liesel’s relief, she didn’t push anything. 

“Well, if you do decide you want to talk, you can always come to me later today,” Isla said kindly. 

“Okay,” Liesel replied. 

Isla frowned as she opened the door, but quickly turned her lips up into a smile. “Have a good day, Liesel.” 

“You too, Isla.” 

Once her roommate was gone, Liesel let out a long sigh of relief. She went to get to her feet but leapt back onto her bed and screeched as an enormous rat scampered out from beneath her bed, almost tickling her bare toes. The rat was unbothered by the screeching sister, continuing on its path towards a small hole into the wall, where it disappeared out of Liesel’s sight. 

She relaxed, clutching her chest. That was another strange thing that had happened since Isla arrived—the room seemed to be infested with rats. 

x X x

Copia was running late. He was due to his meeting with Sister Imperator and Isla fifteen minutes ago now. But he’d been nervously pacing his room awaiting Cosmael’s return. He’d sent his trusty rat out to spy on Isla in her room as he had for some time now, but once he realized what time it was, he gave up waiting for his rat. He was sure Cosmael would be there when he got back, so he decided that it was best to hurry along to the cathedral instead of tempting Sister Imperator to become any more irritated with him. 

“You’re late,” Imperator said as soon as the cathedral doors swung shut behind him. 

He sighed. The meeting was already in full swing. Imperator stood before the altar commanding the scene, while Isla sat atop the altar bed, legs folded elegantly as she took notes, acting as Imperator’s scribe, flanked by the ghoulettes, Cirrus and Cumulus, who were helping her with the notes. Dewdrop had climbed halfway up the back wall where the enormous grucifix hung, taking measurements for decorations, while Aether and Mountain were moving gigantic decorative pillars effortlessly, and Rain and Swiss waited for orders, seated in the first pew. 

“Eh, yes, I am late,” Copia conceded. For a moment, he contemplated making up some sort of excuse, but then decided it would be best not to. He bowed. “I’m sorry.” 

“ _ Don’t _ let it happen again, Cardinal,” Imperator said. At first her tone was threatening, but it quickly lightened as her expression rapidly changed into a smile. “Or else Sister Caedis will have to do all of your work on top of hers.” 

“Of course not,” Copia said. “It won’t happen again.” 

Sister Imperator eyed him skeptically, but didn’t pester him about it. He sighed thankfully to himself, grateful not to have a disagreement with Sister this early in the day. The cardinal’s eyes then went to Isla. She wasn’t paying him any attention, though he couldn’t help but to pay attention to her. She looked like a dark angel seated there, almost-black hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back, casually tucked behind her ear. The light that filtered through the stained glass windows of the cathedral gave her an ethereal glow, causing Copia to notice shades of red in Isla’s hair that he had failed to notice before. He also noticed that her feet were bare, oddly enough, with a pair of discarded black ballet slippers laying on the floor nearby. 

“We did decide on a theme without you,” Imperator said. 

Copia almost jumped, having gotten too engrossed in taking in every bit of Isla he could see.  

“Oh?” he asked. 

“A masquerade,” Imperator announced proudly. “It was Sister Caedis’ lovely idea to have a big, grand ball, and I think it’s a fantastic idea. The past decade or so of festivities haven’t been nearly as big and grand as a masquerade, and I think the abbey could do with a bit classier of a Samhain this year.” 

“A masquerade sounds wonderful,” Copia said, looking to Isla to give her credit. 

She gave him a small smile in return before turning to speak to Cirrus again, and Copia could’ve sworn he felt his ancient heart skip a beat. 

“And, much to your pleasure, Sister Caedis has suggested that there be dancing,” Imperator went on. “A full, formal dance to start out the evening, with the two of you in the lead.” 

Copia could’ve choked. Lucky for him, he was able to hold himself together, at least on the outside. 

By now, Isla had set her notepad aside and slipped back into her ballet slippers, leaping off the altar bed in one fluid movement. Practically in awe, Copia watched as Isla gave a small demonstration of her years of ballet training, twirling and leaping and pirouetting her way towards him. She purposely twirled so that he would have to catch her, which he did without missing a beat. He caught her with one arm around the waist, his other leather-gloved hand clasping hers as if it had been rehearsed. 

In this position, Copia noticed that Isla had a good couple of inches on him in height. Modern nutrition had done her well, no doubt, and genetics probably had something to do with it as well. Her height didn’t turn him off, though. If anything, it reigned him in more. She was a tall, slender, statuesque woman who danced even more beautifully than she looked. And even if she was taller than him, she fit wonderfully in his arms. 

Detangling herself from Copia, Isla chuckled and said, “Nice catch.” 

“Nice moves,” Copia retorted without thinking about it. 

He was surprised how at ease he felt with her in the moment, like they weren’t strangers, and like there wasn’t anyone else in the room with them. It all felt easy, natural. And it put him on high alert in more ways than one. 

“I look forward to seeing some of your moves,” Isla responded lightheartedly. “And I’m going to see them, starting tomorrow. We’re going to have to practice almost everyday from here on out if we want to perfect our routine in time for Samhain.” 


End file.
